Just Temporarily
by m00dykitty
Summary: The second time he'd asked her to run away with him, just temporarily, was much better. Much more appropriate. Luke/Lorelai   M   Post - Series


**Rating:** M, I guess.

**Feedback: **Always appreciated.

**Category:** Gilmore Girls, LL, Romance, Angst(?)

**A/N:** I don't really know what this is. I just started typing around 9 o'clock last night, and wow look its now 9 in the morning. No sleep for the tweekzz, haha. Anyway, this was the outcome. I'll apologize in advance if it's confusing. I'm not sure if it's confusing or if I'm just confused because I haven't slept. Holla.

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><p>She whimpered and gripped the brand new black sheets as he slammed his hips forward, a move that had nearly shoved her flat onto her stomach. Not that she would have minded, at all. He slowly slid backwards, a loud, purely animalistic sound escaped her lips and she was suddenly even more grateful for their remote location. Even if Babette's encouraging, lighthearted reaction to hearing those kind of sounds would have been a wink, a thumbs up, and a 'You go, Suga,' it was no less embarrassing. Luke leaned forward, covering her back with his front before moving his hips forward again. With both of his hands beside hers on the bed, he moved slower, torturously and had her curling her toes and gripping the sheets tighter.<p>

She could feel him all around her. He covered her like a big, warm, wonderful Luke blanket. A big, warm, wonderful Luke blanket that was purposely driving her nuts with his ridiculously slow thrusts. He really was a bastard sometimes. It was no wonder that up until 20 minutes ago she had decided, once and for all, that she was never, ever speaking to him again. Never. Ever. She would go home, buy a bunch of cats, and that would be that. That plan had, obviously, been had changed since it's formation. Right about the time he barged into the sleeping quarters, her hideout, and put a plate stacked with pancakes meant to be shaped like daisies in front of her.

"Pancakes are yellowish," he said, "So it's kind of like yellow daises."

She starred at the well-intentioned, heartfelt, sad attempt on the plate in front of her. How could she not be in love with him when he did things like this? It was flippin' impossible. She stared at the plate as she waited for him to speak again.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, she kept her eyes down, "I didn't mean what I said. I just," he sighed, "It's hard." She didn't feel up to throwing out her not officially patented, 'Dirty!'

"I know it is," she said quietly, sitting up, wiping a tear from her cheek.

He was quiet for a long moment, "You broke my heart, Lorelai."

Raising her eyes to his, she resisted the urge to remind him that he broke her first.

"Luke," she said seriously, "I swear on everything I love in this world, on everything good and holy, it will never, ever happen again. He is gone. It's so passed over. He is not coming back. I don't want him to come back. And I see absolutely no one else." When he opened his mouth to say something, she raised her hand to stop him, "There is you, and only you," she paused, "No, that's not true, theres me too. There is me, and there is you. And thats it, thats all I see. You, " she pointed to him, "and me," she finished pointing to herself.

He was torn. He wanted to believe her, he want this to work this time. But he was having a hard time ignoring the voice in the back of his mind accusing him of being nothing more than a love sick fool. She was what he wanted, everything he wanted all wrapped up in one gorgeous package, but she was also dangerous. "Watch yourself, Danes," the voice warned, "You're playing with fire."

Twenty minutes later, he was on his knees behind her. He draped his body over hers, relishing in the smoothness of her back, in the way her hair smelt just like it always did, in the way she still responded so enthusiastically to every stoke and caress. Brushing her hair out of the way, he moved his mouth to the nape of her neck. She murmured something incoherent when he kissed her there. Balancing on one hand, he ran the other over her breast, down her stomach, and between her folds before dragging the tip of this tongue half way down her spine. She cried out louder this time, and he smiled smugly. Luke sat back, pulling out of her, and she whimpered. Hands on her hips, he turned her to face him. He sat back on the bed and he pulled her onto his lap. With a quick slip she was moving her hips in a rhythmic motion, driving them both a little more nuts.

Placing both her hands on his face, she forced him to look at her. "I love you, Luke," she told him breathlessly, moving her hips down, "I love you so, so much." Her hips rose, she pressed her forehead to his, "I want you, only you."

He'd never admit it willingly, but his heart soared. It was the first time she'd said it since the night it all came crashing down. Sure, there had been mumbled whispers of adoration and devotion during their many romps in the sack in weeks since Rory's going away party, but nothing like this. What could he do? What could be done when she could say just something and have him thinking absurd things like, 'my heart is soaring' and leave him feeling like he - himself - was a chick? He was hers, that was just all there was to it. It was fairly obvious by now. There was next to nothing he wouldn't do for her, to see her happy. Even if that was ignoring he voice in his head warning him that he was about to get smacked down yet again.

It had been a week and four days since they'd left Stars Hallow, just temporarily. A week and four days of togetherness, of making mad, pent up, passionate, and sometimes, angry love. A week and four days of harmless, and even enjoyable bickering. It had been going great. Lorelai was sure she'd made the right decision by agreeing to go on this trip with him. But then, the harmless, and enjoyable bickering transformed into not so harmless shouting. Angry words had been spewed, names had been called. He accused her of giving up, she accused him of leaving her long before she'd left him. And he reminded her that well, at least he didn't run off and fuck somebody else two minutes after barging into his place of business behaving like a lunatic, make crazy demands.

"Wanting my fiancee to actually marry me? That makes me a lunatic?," She yelled, "That makes me crazy? Well, excuse me, Luke. Excuse me for having wanted to spend the rest of my life with you!" She wasn't so sure about the together forever, at that moment.

"Oh, please," he said angrily, "I did us both a favor."

Her brow furrowed, "What!"

"What happened, between you and him, it would have happened rather I married you that night or not," he answered quieter, anger still in his voice.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That is not true," she said through gritted teeth, "I was one hundred percent committed to you. And only you."

"Right, which is why it took you exactly half a second to jump into his waiting arms, huh? And that's why you married him too, right? Because you were so committed to me."

"I thought it was over between us," she defended, "If I had thought...I wouldn't have-"

He cut her off. "You married him, Lorelai. And you moved him into our house. _Our_ house, Lorelai. The house _we_ redid, for _us_." All the anger pent up and repressed from the last year was hitting him full force. "Letting you walk away was the best thing I could have ever done," he finished, still angry, but sounding defeated.

It was almost like being kicked in the stomach, only worse. She swallowed hard as she tried to remember how to breath. He did not just say that. He couldn't have. There was no way he would be so cruel. This had to be a nightmare, there was just no way the man she loved was standing in front of her telling her he was happy their relationship had ended. That it was the best thing he could have ever done. Not now, not when they'd spent the last four weeks wrapped up in each other. Not when, just an hour ago, she'd been so sure they were going to make it. So sure they belonged together. She starred at him, tears welled up in her eyes. Her voice cracked, "How could you say that to me?"

She was met with silence. He turned his back on her, and she slowly back out of the kitchen area wiping her tears away, trying to suppress the sob threading to escape her lips. Into the sleeping quarters she went. Closing the door firmly behind her, she slid under the crisp black sheets, curled into a ball and cried. Why did he do this? Why did he bring her here? Why in the last four weeks was he spending all his spare time with her if this was the way he truly felt? Why did he let her kiss him outside of his diner? Why did he kiss her back? Why didn't he just stop her and tell her, "Lorelai, yes, I love you still. But, you ruined everything. If you must now, a part of me hates you, and I will definitely never trust you again. So, you can just forget about it." Of course, that might have been just as hard to shallow. She toyed with the necklace hanging around her neck.

Rory had been right, as usual. She's voiced her concerns over the phone, away working on a Presidential campaign. It was too soon to be running off together, she'd warned. They needed to work out their problems _before_ being alone for days on end. What if something happens, something bad, and then your stuck together until you can get home? Imagine how awkward that could be, she pointed out. She was a bright kid, that girl.

The trip was suppose to be a chance for them to get away, to be really alone. To get away from the shoe box they lived in, and their nosy, though well intentioned, neighbors. It was time to work this thing they were doing out. It was time to talk about the big stuff. They were going, and when they came back they would either be all in or they would be all out. It was time to stop messing around. They weren't kids anymore. Either they were going to do this, really do this, or they weren't. That was the deal.

As she she laid there under the sheets, surround by his scent, she figured she had her answer.

The first time he asked her to run away with him, just temporarily, it had been all wrong. It was exactly what she had wanted, exactly what she had been waiting for. For him to come back to her. For him to realize what was happening, what he was doing. For him to remember her, remember who she was. Or, who she was suppose to be. 'It's like it isn't even real to me, it's like my life isn't even real to me, unless you're there and you're with me,' he said as she stood on her porch silently begging him to please, just stop. Couldn't he see? Couldn't he tell that it was too late? That it was all over? Couldn't he see the brand across her forehead that proclaimed the less than honorable deed she had committed the night before? In the months prior, there were a few times she fought off the urge to grab him by the shoulders, and shake him until he remembered her. She wanted to shake him and shout, "Luke! It's me, remember? The woman you told you were all in, the woman you secretly bought a house for storing our kids, and our plants, the woman you said yes to. Remember me?' He remembered then, that morning, in her front yard. His life wasn't even real to him without her. Finally, he remembered.

But it was all wrong. It was too late. The deed had been done, and they - the future Mr. and Mrs. Backwards Baseball Cap - were over. She'd been nearly hysterical the night before standing out on the street begging him to come with her, to run away, just temporarily, and marry her. 'Let's just go, Luke,' she'd said. 'I love you, Luke. I love you!', she'd shouted. 'And if it's between you and purple wallpaper,' she'd told him, 'I choose you. I choose you!' He told her to slow down. Just give him some time, just wait. And she told him him no. There was going to be no more waiting. It was now or never. He didn't choose now, and the moment he let her walk away, it was over. It wasn't when she fell into bed with her ex, but then, in that moment as he watched her wrap her shrug tightly around herself and walk down the street away from him, it was over. Finished. Put that hat back in it's box, Lorelai Gilmore, you will not be becoming Mrs. Backwards Ball Cap, and no you will not be having a little Luke and a little Lorelai that you will also buy little baby baseball hats for. Too bad. So sad. Tough luck, Kid. And while were in the business of breaking your heart, might there be a mention of the fact that the mother of your now ex-fiance's child completely nailed it with that crack about how engaged isn't married, and how she doesn't want you around her kid because more likely than not you wont be around much longer away, so lets just spare the child a little heartache? Let's give that woman a prize, shall we?

Of course, that wasn't entirely true. Actually, it wasn't true at all. It wasn't over. Not really. The fact that she was currently - a year later - riding Mr. Backwards Baseball Cap himself proved that. But, she really didn't see this coming. Not then. Then, as far as she could tell, her relationship was over. She was out, he was out, and he had been for a while. Heartbroken didn't describe it. It was more like a mixture of an even stronger word that described the feeling you got when your entire world is falling apart, and the feeling of being all and out pissed off. He'd promised her a middle, he was suppose to be there to find the body, he'd said yes. And yet, now? He ignored her, he compared her to cartoon character, and did things like berate her for speaking with Anna Nardini while she was proclaiming her love for him and her need to be officially bound to him in the middle of the street.

If she thought about it now, she might be able to admit to herself that maybe she could have handled the situation better. That maybe, she wasn't so innocent in the whole thing. Maybe, her lack of attempt at communication contributed to the end of her happily ever after. After all, Luke wasn't a mind reader. It wasn't exactly fair to assume that he should not only realize something was wrong while she put on an oh so good happy face for him, but also send him on a mission to figure her out. And if there was one thing she should have learned from their first break up was that Luke didn't appreciate her jumping on him in public and trying to force him into things. If she were really honest with herself, she might admit that she had behaved just a bit immaturely. It wasn't right to silently pout, and then come jumping of left field demanding things. That is not how grown-ups handle these kind of situations. However, things like her own faults were not what she was interested in that night. He was a bastard, he'd ripped her heart out, thrown it on the ground, and smushed it into the pavement. She needed comfort, she needed to feel loved.

So she did it, she got him where it would hurt the most. Perfect aim, right through the heart. She knew what she was doing when she was doing it. The regret, guilt, shame and emptiness she felt immediately after, as she rolled over away from her partner in crime, was entirely earned, owed and exactly what she'd deserved. It was yet another a less than proud moment from a woman with her fair share of less than proud moments.

The morning after went down as most morning afters do. With one person trying to sneak away, her, and one person confused as to why, him. What was the problem? She was doing the exact opposite of running away from him just a few hours ago. Had he not been on his game last night? Hadn't he made her come? He could't remember. The answer was no, he didn't. Not for lack of trying, just lack of being the entirely wrong man. She'd scurried away as fast as she could, and when he called later she told him that it was best that, what they'd done, never happen again. She didn't want Christopher, and she never, ever wanted Luke to know that she'd spent the night - just a few hours after she threw a rejected ultimatum in his face - making something with Christopher. Something that rhymed with 'boopy'.

But he just wouldn't stop. He stood there in her front yard rambling on about how he's gotta learn to move faster, about driving up to Maine and about being ready now. Now. He was ready, now. He just didn't understand, it was over. Now held nothing for them. So she told him, and he stopped rambling. In that moment, it was over for him too. That realization only made things immensely worse. _Then_ it was over for him, it wasn't when she'd fallen into bed with another man. To him, she'd been unfaithful, cheated, fucked around. And she'd done it with _him_. That pansy ass, trust-fund baby, deadbeat, son of a bitch. And the worst part? Part of Luke wasn't all that surprised. If she was going to pull something like this, obviously it would be with _him_. Luke Danes had never felt like a bigger idiot in his entire life. The punch really didn't help much, despite what he would tell her so nonchalantly in the middle of another street a few days later, but he was still glad he did it. As far as Luke was concerned, jumping another man's girl was just plain wrong. A punch in the face was entirely deserved.

It had been a hell of a year. She'd ended her suppose to be happily ever after with the love her life, and married her first love, and then moved her first love into the house she had made bigger to accommodate the love of her life. This was not, in anyway, what she'd been after when she'd gone to Christopher that night. She hadn't realized that something she'd considered a mistake would kick off a somewhat bizarre chain of events that would ultimately lead to her becoming Mrs. Christopher Hayden. Eloping in Paris, they couldn't have gotten more cliche if they'd tried. But, it seemed right, at the time. Then again, a lot of things seemed right when you were being wooed in the most romantic city in the world. It felt like this is what was suppose to happen all along. This was fate. To hell with an even stranger chain of bizarre events that lead to her planning her entire wedding -to Luke- in one fail swoop, followed by being greeted with a loving blanket of snow! To hell with it! She was always suppose to end up with Chris. She was always suppose to be Mrs. Christopher Hayden. Maybe her parents had been right about this all a long, god forbid. It was Christopher and Lorelai, not Luke and Lorelai. And to hell with alliteration, as well!

But then they went home, and things were not the same. When Luke called, Lorelai ran. When Christopher wanted to leave, Lorelai wanted to stay. When Christopher wanted to have another baby, she'd thought, surely, he was joking. She didn't allow her self to think about why kids would have been good with Luke, but seemed crazy with Christopher. She didn't allow herself to think about why she had in fact planned out a big huge wedding with 'That Diner Guy' but recoiled at the thought of attending the kind of wedding her mother was insisting on giving her. It didn't take them long realize that they were nothing but a couple of lonely, romantic fools and that their marriage, it just wasn't right. Even factoring out her suppressed devotion to another man, it was completely wrong. After months of playing house in a home surrounded by a river in Egypt, Lorelai Gilmore became a divorcee. It was a novel effort. They tried. She didn't want another ending, she wanted to want him. She didn't _want_ to love the man in the diner, with the coffee, and the flannel, and the hands that touched her in way she'd experienced with no other man. Not anymore. But alas, she did. And even if she hadn't, she still didn't love Christopher enough. She had spent months waiting for that married life she'd so hoped for: I want to live a real-life Groundhog Day with you. Please, lay your tooth brush next to mine, My Love. Honey, we're out of milk, and Q-Tips. Honey, do not forget the Q-tips. His and Hers. Mister and Misses. Man and Woman. And then she got it, but this too was completely wrong. Wrong him, wrong mister, wrong man.

Chris, he really wasn't a bad guy. He wasn't the best guy, but he wasn't_ exactly_ a villain either. He loved her, he wanted her. He wanted to give her everything. He thought that if he could, surely she would look at him they way she looked at the two-bit, owning nothing but flannel, baseball cap wearing, diner owner everyone in the god-for-saken town seem to love so much. From afar, of course. If you took in the situation from Christopher's point of view, the fact that she didn't, couldn't make herself, and never would love him they way he loved her was really quite devastating. Still, he did put himself in that situation. Christopher Hayden was an eternal boy. He wasn't a man. A man would have stopped touching her, that night, when she shook, and started to cry. A man would have let her disengage, a man wouldn't run away when things weren't going too great, a man wouldn't have pushed her.

Despite the deterioration of her marriage, for Luke and Lorelai, reconciliation was not instant. It took them time to find their way back to each other. Even before she had found her way out of the river, a sick kid, a new born, a mother extremely protective of her alomst-teenager, a character reference, and sick father had them circling each other. A Hay Bell Maze, an apology, broken jeep, a boat trip, a drunken song, and a late night conversation dripping with double meaning had them moving closer. But it was the party he'd thrown for her and her perfect daughter and a thank you that had them both brave enough to step together again.

The second time he'd asked her to run away with him, just temporarily, was much better. Much more appropriate.

"Let's just get out of this town for a few days," he suggested holding both her hands in his against his chest, "Just you and me."

His words circled in her mind. Just you and me. You and me. You and me. You, Lorelai. Me, Luke. Luke and Lorelai. L is for Luke. L is for Lorelai. L is for love. Like she could have said no.

So, they went and now, here they were.

They sat out under a black blanket of stars. Other than the waves, it was silent. The weather was cold, but he held her close. He'd made sure, before sitting next to her, that her legs were securely wrapped in a blanket. He had his arm around her, she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I really, really want this to work, Luke," she said quietly, "I want a middle with you. You have no idea how much."

He sighed looking up at the stars, "I think I do."

She moved closer, nuzzling her cold nose in his neck, "Do you think we can?" She asked.

He didn't respond right away. The silence lasted long enough for her to assume he wasn't intending on responding. But then he turned slightly, pulled her closer still, and ran a hand through her dark curls.

"I wouldn't bet against us."


End file.
